


Messy Clothes

by DystopianDuckie



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Endgame, Post-Endgame, Science Experiments, Siblings, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, peter and morgan are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DystopianDuckie/pseuds/DystopianDuckie
Summary: ENDGAME SPOILERSPeter isn't copying with Tony's funeral - how could he be? He only just came back from the dead himself. Luckily Morgan needs her brother's help with something and comes to find him.





	Messy Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop thinking about these two after seeing the movie and I feel like they really needed to meet.

Peter Parker was way out of his depth. He had died, or dusted, or whatever they were calling it. He had  _ disappeared _ for five years and now he was at Mr Stark’s lakehouse watching Mr Stark’s wife and daughter cry at his funeral. He was back, he wasn’t dead. But Mr Stark was. 

He hadn’t spoken much since the battle, despite how much Aunt May had anxiously hovered beside him. She was there now but he could barely sense it. He wasn’t sure whether this disorientation was a result of being snapped back to reality or of watching his mentor die in front of him mere moments after they had reunited. The worst part was that Tony would know how he was feeling, somehow he would understand and he would make it better, or at least make sense. Nothing made sense. How could it? Tony wasn’t here. 

A tug at his jacket sleeve pulled Peter back to the moment. No-one had touched him in days, respecting the distance he had craved. But someone was tugging intently now. 

“Can I help you?” Peter asked, finally looking down to see a little girl in a black dress. Morgan. She was Morgan. Mr Stark’s kid. God, it was weird to see her. From his point of view he’d only been gone a moment, but here was living breathing proof of all the time he had missed. 

“I need your help,” Morgan said insistently, pulling his sleeve forwards now to urge him to move towards the lake. 

“I don’t know if I can help you, kid,” Peter said sadly, shaking his head and trying to pull his hand away. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, he knew the kind of support she would need, and he didn’t think he could give it. Not when he was so broken himself. 

“But you’re Peter,” she replied, as though that answered everything. “Daddy said you always helped.” Peter sighed deeply, glancing over his shoulder at Aunt May. She smiled across at him, the sad small smile that people had at funerals.  _ Go  _ she mouthed, shooing him forward with her hand. 

“What do you need help with?” Peter asked, looking around him to see if Pepper was anywhere near. She wasn’t. He vaguely remembered a crowd of people moving inside after the service and figured she must have been with them. It didn’t seem like anyone was watching Morgan. “Because I’m probably not the best person to ask. I’m just a teenager, and I haven’t been around for five years.” 

“Neither have I,” Morgan said back to him, smiling despite the day. 

“What do you-” Peter started to ask. She hadn’t been dusted, she had been here. 

“I’m only four and a quarter,” she explained, “So I haven’t been around for five years.” Peter stopped and smiled for the first time in a while at the joke. 

“Even so, I don’t think I’m the best person to help you,” Peter protested again. 

“But you’re my brother,” Morgan explained, “and family have to help each other.” 

“I’m your - your what?” Peter choked out, stumbling as Morgan pulled him over a rougher patch of ground. 

“My brother,” she repeated, a little less conviction in her voice this time. “Daddy said you were a son to him, and I’m his daughter, so that makes you my brother.” She had sped up, going faster and faster as the tears started to pour down Peter’s face. He hadn’t cried all day, but the word son got to him. 

“Your brother,” he breathed to himself. 

“I mean, you don’t have to be,” Morgan backtracked, on the verge of tears now herself, “not if it’s going to make you cry.” 

Peter wiped his tears away and crouched down to her level, his suit trousers brushing the dirt floor. “I would be honoured to be your brother,” he told her, “I’m just crying because I didn’t have a Daddy for a very long time and your Daddy-”

“- _ our  _ Daddy-” Morgan cut in quietly.

“- _ our  _ Daddy,” Peter continued, “never told me he viewed me as a son.”

“Well he did,” Morgan told him. “Your picture is up on the family wall.” 

Peter couldn’t even imagine Tony having a family wall, let alone him being on it. 

“Why don’t we go do what you needed help with?” Peter asked, happy for something to move on from this moment. There was only so much he could process on one day. 

“Oh, yeah,” Morgan said, her tears gone and her excitement back. It was a wonder to see her child’s brain in action, her sudden changes in mood that he could barely keep up with. 

They arrived a few minutes later at a tiny play-tent on the edge of the lake. A small chair perched on the grass beside it, and the image of Tony sat there while he played with his daughter sprung to Peter’s mind. They had had a good life here. He could take comfort in that. 

Morgan dropped his hand and slipped into the tent, pulling the flaps back a tiny fraction. “The password is Spider-man,” she whispered, and Peter nodded conspiratorially.

“ _ Spider-man, _ ” he whispered and Morgan pulled back the flaps on the tent and let him inside. 

“I need you to pour the vinegar in,” she told Peter as she stood proudly beside a baking soda volcano as tall as her, the paper-mache moulded and painted impressively for a four-and-a-quarter-year-old. “I can’t reach.”

“This is great!” Peter said, not even having to feign his excitement, and oddly a sense of pride. 

“Me and Daddy built it to learn about chemical reactions. When you put the vinegar in there’s an acid-base reaction and then there’s a de-comp, a de-comp-,” Morgan struggled on the word.

“A decomposition reaction,” Peter finished for her. She beamed up at him and Peter smiled back. “You know a lot of science.” He didn’t add for someone her age. 

“I like science,” she said.

“Me too,” Peter smiled, “are you ready to put the vinegar in?”

Morgan nodded so Peter took the bottle of vinegar from the side of the volcano and reached up to pour it carefully into the top. Immediately the reaction started and the fierce vinegar smell that he remembered from countless science fairs filled the small tent. But Peter didn’t look at the reaction, he looked at Morgan and in her eyes, he saw the true delight he had seen in Tony’s when they had worked together in the lab. She giggled and ran closer to the paper mache mound, and Peter found himself joining her, not even caring when the bubbles and vinegar covered his new suit. Aunt May and Pepper might be mad about the state of their clothes, but something told Peter that they wouldn’t really mind. Not today. Laughter today was worth some messy clothes. 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any fanfics for a while and this is barely edited so there might be mistakes. But I hope you enjoyed and comments are much appreciated!


End file.
